


Ready

by rockinhamburger



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Coming Out, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-05 15:54:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11016642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rockinhamburger/pseuds/rockinhamburger
Summary: He’s done it enough times that he’s lost count. For a while, Eric knew exactly how many times: once, twice, five times, ten. Now the number’s well over twenty; he’s even started getting used to it. But he knows this one will feel like a first.





	Ready

People often ask Eric when he knew he was gay. Eric doesn't answer, not because it’s painful to consider or because he doesn't want to. It’s just that there was no single Eureka! moment, not the way it’s always shown in television and movies. It came to him in slow increments. There are little things that, looking back, Eric can point to as hints, but there wasn’t a when so much as lots of tiny whens.

He told Jack about those whens over Skype one late night a few weeks after their kiss.

“I always got along better with girls, but it didn’t occur to me that it was because I was gay. Maybe that was an early sign that I wasn’t like the other boys. But I didn’t hang out with the girls because I was gay. I just didn’t like roughhousing and that was how the boys played when I was little.”

Jack didn't say anything or ask any questions; he just listened as Eric shared his story for the first time. Jack kept his gaze fixed on the screen, on Eric. He felt so _heard_.

“I guess in retrospect the figure skating and the baking could have been signs. But those were just the things I was good at so I gravitated toward them. Figure skating and baking don’t equal gayness, right?”

He went to the basement for the conversation so he wouldn’t be overheard by his parents, but he still kept his ears trained for any sign of life upstairs. Just in case.

“I guess I started to suspect in junior high. I could feel people watching me, I could hear the comments and the giggles. And then one day, someone asked me if I was. This girl, I can’t even remember her name, isn’t that so strange? She just asked me, Are you gay? I didn’t think I was at that point, but even if I had I’m sure I would’ve said no all the same. You can’t be gay in Georgia." He thought about that. "Well, I guess there’s a lot of places you can’t be gay.”

Once he started talking, he couldn’t stop.

“I’d catch myself looking at guys in class, on the ice. Watching the football players. But I told myself it didn’t mean anything, that I couldn’t be. Then there was Brian, the quarterback of Coach’s team in my freshman year. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. He was nice to me. I knew it was mostly ‘cause I was his coach’s son, but I still liked it." 

He kept going. Jack encouraged him with his open, expressive eyes. "There wasn’t a moment or anything, I just started to realize I didn’t like any girls but I did maybe, sorta like Brian. I was really scared of that so I just put all my focus into figure skating. And then there was the locker incident and we moved and I joined the hockey team, and it was even more obvious once I was sharing a locker room with all these hockey players, with the muscles and the good looks, and I didn’t want to look but I _did_ want to look.”

It'd been good to talk about it, to have someone listening.

All the same, Eric wishes there had been a Eureka! moment, because that would make it a little easier. He could tell Mama and Coach that it came to him like lightning when he was 10, and he’s known ever since (so clearly it's an intrinsic part of him) but that's not his story. And perhaps it’s not true that it would make this any easier. Coming out.

He’s done it enough times now that he’s actually lost count. For a while, Eric knew exactly how many times: once, twice, five times, ten. Now the number’s well over twenty; he’s even started getting used to it. But he knows this one will feel like a first. Like _the_ first.

He’s fretted endlessly over the possible ways to come out to his parents.

It feels like there's no scenario he hasn't turned over. He’s imagined saying it during the halftime, Bulldogs leading. Or at lunch after a Sunday morning service, just for the statement it’d make. At dinner or during dessert. In the kitchen, in his parents' room. He’s thought about coming out to his mother first, in the car on the way to the farmer’s market on a Saturday afternoon. He’ll have the excuse of keeping his eyes on the road so he won’t have to look at Mama when he says it.

He’s also imagined uncountable ways they could react to the news.

Even now, so many years since those early whens, Bitty can’t decide if he feels more nervous about his mother’s or his father’s reaction. Sometimes he imagines that his mother will reach across the space between them and put her hand on Bitty’s on the steering wheel and say, “Oh, Dicky, we love you exactly the way you are. We’ll have some pie when we get home and we’ll tell your father together.”

It's a pure fantasy. He has few illusions about how the news is going to be received; there will be no after-school special scenario like that.

And his father… Lord, his father... Every thought about telling his father sends Eric into a tailspin of anxiety.

In his darkest moments, Eric's wondered if they might actually disown him. He doesn't want to think they'd be so cruel, but they're good Christians and they take the Word seriously. Maybe their love for him won't stand up against the reality of what their son is. Sometimes he worries that the news will be such an embarrassment for them that they would rather cut him out of their lives than ever tell a living soul.

The mere thought of such a reaction is so painful to Eric that it's almost enough to scare him away from the idea of ever coming out. 

There is a middle ground of sorts. He's allowed himself to imagine a scenario where they come around after an initial period of frostiness and anger. That period could take hours, days, maybe even years. But he can't help hoping they care more about having their only son in their lives than they care about their pride, fear, and convictions.

He's thought, too, about the actual words his coming out could inspire. 

_This is my fault; I made you bake._

_This is my fault; if I'd insisted on football, this never would have happened._

_It's a sin._

_It's a choice._

_We can fix this._

He hates that he can hear those words in their voices.

There’s so much to consider, and he’s considered it all.

More recently, he’s started to harbour a fantasy about just putting it out there casually: _"So, I'm dating Jack Zimmermann and I'm probably moving in with him next year. FYI."_

But he knows it has to be a serious conversation, and he knows he can’t have the conversation twice. It’ll have to be Mama and Coach at the same time, and he’s just gonna have to get the gumption. Just say it.

_I’m gay._

He’s actually looked online for tips on how to do it, but the online suggestions are too abstract: choose the right person, be prepared for any reaction, be proud and know you’re brave. It’s not exactly a how-to guide. He’s asked for advice, from his friends and teammates, from his YouTube subscribers and Twitter followers. There have been lots of suggestions; don’t present the information like it’s a death sentence, let them adjust to the news, give them space to ask questions. Do it in private rather than in public (Eric would vomit if he even tried to tell them in public).

It’s all very decent advice. It just doesn’t make it any easier. Eric wishes so deeply that anything could make this easier.

No, at the end of the day he just has to bootstrap this thing.

On the flight to Georgia, his stomach roils with anxiety. His podcasts are mostly background noise. He gets up to use the restroom four separate times during the three-hour flight because he can’t stop nervously drinking water.

His mama’s waiting for him at arrivals. She greets him as brightly as ever, with her trademark gentle but firm embrace. She is clearly none the wiser about Eric’s intentions for this trip. They stop at the farmer’s market, and she asks him a million questions about his semester and the boys, about Jack. She talks about the goings-on at church and updates him on the latest jam feud detes. She lovingly blesses ‘that Godforsaken frat house’.

At home, Coach hugs him tight and congratulates him on being made captain of the team. He asks all about the kinds of prep Eric has to do before fall semester and talks proudly of Eric's stats this year. Then his sweet and simple parents pull him into a family hug. Eric only just keeps his tears at bay, tries not to think about how he could lose all of this in one fell swoop.

Lunch is crab cakes and slaw and peach pie for dessert, all with an endless supply of sweet tea. It's incredible as ever, but Eric picks at his food, too nervous to be remotely hungry. Mama notices immediately.

“What's on your mind, Dicky?”

They’re both looking at him, faces open with curiosity and what he hopes every day is unconditional love. 

Eric’s thought about waiting until the last night of his visit to tell them, just so he has an out if all goes to hell in a handbasket. He’s thought about telling them halfway through his visit so they have time to talk. If it’s a catastrophe he can always leave early; Jack’s already insisted on buying a return ticket if Eric needs it, because he’s wonderful and the love of Eric’s life.

But thinking about Jack and his patient, attentive, lovely eyes has Eric’s throat swelling and his eyes stinging.

He has to tell them. He has to tell them this moment. If he waits he might not ever do it.

Eric takes a deep breath. He steels himself with his love for Jack, and his love for each of his friends and teammates. He reminds himself that he has a family outside of this one, that no matter his folks' reaction he is loved and cared for by the beautiful people he's met at Samwell, his home if he needs it.

Soaking up his teammates' tenacity, Eric squares his shoulders like he does against an oncoming check and says, “I’m gay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.


End file.
